


Grabbing On

by Callisto



Series: Season 5 codas [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode Related, Gen, Season/Series 05, episode: s0505 Fallen Idol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisto/pseuds/Callisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He’s twenty-seven, he started the apocalypse, he’s Lucifer’s one and only, he’s exorcised more demons and burned more bones than he would ever care to count, but apparently Dean giving him a set of car keys at this particular point in time, is what makes him feel like an adult. Go figure.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Grabbing On

**Author's Note:**

> _Sam: “We’re here to just grab on to whatever’s in front of us, kick its ass, and go down fighting.” --S5.05 Fallen Idols--_
> 
> Beta'd by Ancasta.

Dean doesn’t nap, of course. But then Sam never thought he would. It’s not about Dean being tired, just as it’s not about Sam driving for a while. It’s about...well, right now it’s about the sun warming Sam’s arm as he rests it on the open window, it’s about the empty road stretching ahead, and it’s about how ridiculously grown up he feels. He’s twenty-seven, he started the apocalypse, he’s Lucifer’s one and only, he’s exorcised more demons and burned more bones than he would ever care to count, but apparently Dean giving him a set of car keys at this particular point in time, is what makes him feel like an adult. Go figure.

“What?”

Sam looks across. Dean is frowning at him, and Sam remembers with a fond tug his brother doesn’t do well in shotgun. The urge to backseat drive Sam around every incline and stoplight occasionally brought them to blows when they were younger, and Sam can tell that urge is still there from the way Dean bites his bottom lip whenever Sam accelerates around a curve or the occasional truck. Unless he’s drunk or hurt, Dean tends to fidget. Like his hands don’t know what to do if they’re not wrapped around a steering wheel.

Sam shifts, a little embarrassed at being caught with his guard down. “Nothing. I’m...” He shrugs, not wanting to put too much of this into words, but not wanting to play it like it’s nothing either. He takes a deep breath and looks across at his brother. “I’m... I’m _good_. You know? Really good.”

Dean shakes his head. “God. Only you could want a moment over this. They’re just keys, Sam. Now if I had the real Little Bastard’s key chain to hang them on...” He lets his words trail off wistfully.

“What? _Then_ you’d let me have a moment?”

“No. But it’d be close, Sammy.”

Dean hasn’t smiled at him and said Sammy like that in a long, long time, so Sam figures he’s getting a moment anyway.

Just to make sure, he steps on the gas as they come to a curve and feels Dean still beside him. So freakin’ predictable.

“Dean?” He hides his smile.

“Yeah?” Dean is tense, eyes flicking to Sam’s foot on the pedal.

Sam picks up the newspaper he's half sitting on and tosses it into Dean’s lap. “Quit staring at my shoes and find us a case.”

“What? I’m not staring at your...why the fuck would I stare at those ugly things?” But he’s busted and they both know it. Dean snaps open the newspaper, making a production out of it while he mutters under his breath.

“Something on your mind, Dean?”

Dean opens his mouth.. and then appears to change track, lips spreading in a sudden smile.

“Doesn’t matter. A midget in a diaper totally kicked your ass, dude. I’m dining off that one for weeks.”

“Yeah, well. Back at you with a bimbo in a dress.”

“Okay, pull over.”

“What, no...why?”

 _Shit, shit, shit._

But he’s braking and easing them off the road as the familiar cold clench of dread fists around his heart. How the fuck did he think he could have this back so soon and so easy? He switches the engine off, and as Dean climbs out the passenger side to walk around, he resists the urge to lean forward and wrap his whole body around the steering wheel and refuse to give it back. He should have known. He just doesn’t get breaks like that anymore.

Dean opens the door to the back seat and climbs in.

“No playing any Radiohead while I’m asleep. And wake me up when we get somewhere. I want pie. I fucking deserve pie after all that crazy shit. Oh, and don’t... Sam?”

Sam’s still getting his heart and his mind back from the sheer certainty that Dean was going to open the driver's door and throw him out. That Dean was going to take the keys and ease him back over into that cold spot he has learned to stay so still and so quiet in. But he didn’t, and Sam is still here. In the driver’s seat. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Um...please?”

That gets his eyes open, and it may be his weakest bark of laughter ever, but Dean sounds so confused and weird somewhere behind him.

He sniffs and wipes the back of his arm across his face, not caring if Dean notices and calls him on it. Dean’s seen him chow down on demon blood, after all. Going emo like this should be no big deal for either of them. He catches Dean’s eye in the rearview mirror and sees nothing but wary concern. He tries a watery smile. “Dude, you’re my older brother. Don’t say please, it freaks me out.”

Dean disappears from view, stretching out and getting comfortable. When he speaks, it’s clear but a little muffled. “Then pie, bitch. Now.”

There’s a catch in the air. It’s been a mighty long time since that word was tossed out there between them. Sam was the one who dug his heels in about being treated like an equal, and Dean bossing him around is one of the things he hates...

“When we stop. Jerk.”

...but it feels right to say it again.

He turns the keys in the ignition and gets them back on the road.

******


End file.
